


Delightful Encounters: David

by tiramia



Category: Codename: Kids Next Door, DCFDTL, Delightful Children From Down the Lane - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 16:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12685830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiramia/pseuds/tiramia
Summary: Working with lab partners is stupid.





	Delightful Encounters: David

It wasn’t easy to be part of a hive mind and concentrate alone. If he were alone and working on the same topic as the others, that would have been easier. Not easy, but easier. If he were with the other four, that would have been ideal! But Mr. Willems seemed to think otherwise, and so the teen and his siblings had been split apart between history partners. For a paper. That he could have written himself. With his siblings.  


David impatiently tapped his pencil on the notebook, trying to string together the phrase he needed while feeling like a wire was being yanked in the back of his head. Which in essence, there was. David, Ashley, Bruce, Constance, and Lenny were all scattered through the library, each being forced to work on a different topic with their lab partners. If there were a greater distance between them than a few shelves, this feeling of intense multitasking would have dissipated to be replaced with dull static. As it was, the proximity led to loud static punctured with different history subjects passing through like distracting leaf boats on an otherwise still river.

That was the beauty and tragedy of a hive mind: it was a bond as thin as spider silk, wide as an ocean, as strong as iron, and impossible to break without sheer force.

And sheer force was sitting to his left, shoving a history book across the table with an indignant huff. “They expect me to believe the moon landing was fake?! Man, these Einsteins don’t know squat!” the dark-skinned girl snorted, tilting her chair onto its back two legs so she could give the book a proper glare from under her signature red hat. Abigail Lincoln, former Kids Next Door operative, once a cool-tempered, ill-mannered child, now a cool-tempered, ill-mannered teen. Even years later, she hadn’t lost that cold fire that had given the Delightful Teens problems in their youth. David almost smiled, knowing that Abigail couldn’t even look back on those fights with satisfaction, as KND operatives were all decommissioned on their thirteenth birthdays, with no exception for Abigail.

She blew a bubble with her gum and popped it loudly, letting her chair fall onto all fours so she could prop her chin on her hands. “If these history buffs were so smart, why don’t they just go to the moon? Check and see if their fool nonsense is real fact instead of the opinions of old geezers.”

“Tell me about it,” muttered David, though in all honesty, he didn’t care about her opinion, only in her ability to do well on homework. He blew a puff of air into his bangs to make them flutter before returning his attention to his paper. Most of what he’d written made sense, but he’d give the proofreading work to-

Fwip!

David blinked, the sudden difference in lighting surprising. He didn’t even need to turn his head to see Abigail lower herself back into her chair.

“You’d see the truth better without those bangs getting in your way.”

The teen turned his head, looking dead into brown eyes with his own sky blue, and shook his head once. As one, all his bangs slid obediently back into place, hiding his gaze. Part of his mysterious demeanor was held solely because no one was sure what he was really looking at, and instead were left in confusion as to what he sought in his glance. A perfect intimidation tactic.

Abigail let out a short laugh, amused at his defiance. “How do you even see through that mess, anyway?”

“My hair is very thin,” was the short reply, David not sparing her a glance in favor of his work. Two seconds later, the girl reached over and flicked his hair out of his face again, earning an irritated grunt. “What?” he growled.

“What’s the deal with you hiding your face all the time. Why don’t you brush it back?”

“I don’t like it.”

“Here now-”

“Stop-”

“Try it for five minutes-”

“Do you mind?!”

Before he knew it, David was being bombarded by both of Abby’s hands trying to swipe at his bangs, and was forced to slap stupidly at her hands and deflect her with his palms. Up, up, left, over, under, feint right and jab. He smirked; he still knew all her moves. With practiced ease from years of fighting, he fought her wrists into his hands, giving her a triumphant smirk to make her stop struggling.

However, now that he’d caught her, what was he supposed to do with her? A moment was taken to assess the situation. Abigail was half out of her seat and leaning over him a little, face puckered ever so slightly in playful yet concentrated effort. She was actually eye-level with the freakishly tall boy when he sat. As always, her gaze was cool and steady, a silent dare that made his jaw clench in frustration.

“Why does it matter to you so much?” He hissed, squeezing her wrists in warning. Whatever her insipid reasoning could be, nothing she said would persuade him to change his hairstyle. It was one of the few things that were truly under his control.

“Because,” came the reply, “you have some nice eyes.”

“Well, I-! Uh,” His scathing remark died in his throat as he digested her words. Was that actually a compliment? Instead of the harsh, vitriolic banter that had plagued their childhoods and had continued into their teen years, she had actually given him a compliment. Some things must change after decommissioning, he figured.

Nevertheless, his willpower was stronger than sweet words. “Tough,” he sneered, releasing her wrists and pressing his bangs back over his face. The man was nothing if not proud, and he was no push-over. With that sneer still on his lips, he turned away again, intent on finishing this paper before the end of study hall.

She pushed his bangs back.

Both of David’s hands slapped onto the table, complete irritation making his whole body curdle. “You. NEED. To. Stop.”

“You know I’m just going to keep doing it until you ease up.”

David’s hands turned to fists.

How dare she? How dare she look at him with that expectant, smug expression? How dare she try to force him to do something against his will? How dare she think she had any right to dictate how he should look, when she had the freedom to express herself however she wanted? Like dressing up as some sort of skinny red and blue flagpole?

…look. A sly smile slid onto the brunette’s lips, making Abigail narrow her eyes in suspicion. There was obviously something new going through the boy’s mind, his air of confidence returning as he turned his whole body to her, previous fists smoothed flat. “Fine, I’ll move my bangs back. But I get to wear your hat.”

Abigail’s surprised snort turned derisive mid-grunt. “Yeah right, don’t nobody wear Abby’s hat. Private property.” She pinched the rim defensively, pulling it down until only the lower half of her face was seen. How ironic.

“Then no deal,” grinned the other, expression now as smug as the one Abigail had worn not thirty seconds ago. “If you can’t take the heat, then don’t dish it out. No hat, no bangs!” Oh, how the tables had been turned, and David again had the coveted upper hand. Now she would finally stop pestering him, and he could move on with his work in peace.

That’s what he thought until a red hat appeared in his vision. Surprised eyes trailed up the brown arm to the slender face that was sour with a scowl. Without her hat, she looked so much more vulnerable, very un-Abigail-like, but her curled lip let him know that if he even dared to try something, he would pay for it ten fold. “Five minutes,” she growled, jabbing the hat at him.

David’s heart plummeted all the way down into his feet, and he tried to backpedal, leaning away from the hat like it was covered in lice. “Ah, no, I meant, but…” His panic rippled out over the spider thread in the back of his mind, crashing into the shores of his siblings, each of whom sent back waves of confusion and concern. Across the library, four separate chairs squeaked as four people pushed back in welling dread.

Again, Abigail thrust the hat at him, open face now dangerous enough to turn boiling coffee into an iced mocha. Another urgent squeak as chairs were moved even further. The line in the back of David’s head tightened as the distance between the group shortened. His desire to again be whole was straining against Abby’s wilting stare; he couldn’t meet her gaze, couldn’t look at her at all with the threads twisting tighter. His eyes darted around for an excuse, a solution, and fell on his notebook.

They… were supposed to be writing a paper. History. Class work. The Delightful Teens were always impeccable in their class work. If they were all in one spot, they wouldn’t be working with their partners. They would surely fail the assignment if they didn’t work on it with their partners.

The cold realization filtered through years of osmosis before finally reaching the other four, each of whom slowly sank back down in their seats. The feeling of belonging ebbed into the cracks of responsibility. David was again alone in his mind, except for the static buzzing with concern, just soft enough to be noticeable.

All this happened within three seconds of David seeing his notebook, but the ordeal made him feel hundreds of years old. When he looked up through his seemingly ancient eyes, a red hat was still held out and a dark-skinned girl was still glaring at him.

He almost wilted under that gaze, but reminded himself of what was at stake. Inhaling sharply through his nose, he snatched up the cap and stuffed the thing on his head. Fine. This was still a victory for The Delightful Teens. Lose the battle, win the war.

Unfortunately, the hat was too large for his oblong head, and slid almost all the way in front of his face. Abigail must have a really big head. Readjusting the strap didn’t help either. He finally settled for putting the hat on with the brim in the back, the thing tipping precariously on his head, some of his hair peeking out from the hole over the strap.

“Ahem,” snorted Abigail, catching his attention again. She had her arms crossed and was leaning back in her chair, shoulders hunched like she was trying to make herself smaller. A wave of triumph swept through David as he knew she was feeling the same sense of loss as she had been trying to foist on him. However, once catching his eye, Abigail reached over and pushed his bangs out of his face, slipping the hair under the strap. “There! Now aren’t you a handsome boy!” She chuckled in a saccharine sweet voice that made him want to gag.

“Whatever,” he droned, rolling his eyes widely to prove that none of this would be the picnic she’d hoped for. Attention dropped flatly to his notebook, and he started writing the phrase that had escaped him earlier. Nothing was going to distract David from his work now, not even the soft, almost affectionate chuckle to his left, the dark hair flipping into his peripherals as she brought her braid over her shoulder, or the creak as she leaned closer, no doubt watching him from the corner of those brown eyes.

…nevertheless, it was all very distracting.


End file.
